It's the Simple Gifts
by GulpinGuru
Summary: Brock embarks on a journey to find his lost best friend, but he gets more than he bargained for.
1. Chapter 1

**It's the Simple Gifts**

By GulpinGuru

**Chapter 1**

_Where in the world could he be?_

This was the present thought of a young man known simply as Brock, a pokémon Breeder in training who was currently dressed in a brilliant white tuxedo and shoes. He was not feeling out of place in this attire, however, as he scanned the stiff and pressed crowd yet again for a familiar face.

For one's attire must be formal while attending an official Pokémon League induction ceremony, especially when said event was in honor of a good friend.

That friend was the rather distressed looking young woman at the head of the crowd. She was dressed for the occasion as well, in a pale sea foam-colored dress and white gloves. She had grown her hair out since Brock had last seen her, the fiery locks whipping around her as she was inundated by a stream of onlookers and well-wishers.

Brock grimaced at the scene. Misty, as she was simply known to her close friends, was to receive her official placement by the League as the sole leader of the Cerulean City Gym this evening. And though she had always sought fame and fortune, the pokémon Breeder could clearly see that she did not stand for such formal quarters and publicity. The girl was a simple pokémon Trainer, through and through. But though Brock wished to help her escape all the unwanted attention, he had more pressing concerns at the moment.

Tearing his hidden eyes away from Misty, Brock continued his search for a particularly messy head of raven hair. For he knew as well as Misty did that their mutual friend, a boy known as Ash Ketchum, would never comb his hair even while attending an event such as this.

_If_ he attended such an event.

A full fifteen minutes, and just as many lost opportunities for love from beautiful young ladies later, Brock sighed and gave up his search. Sitting himself down at the dining table reserved for him and Ash, Brock resigned himself to gawk at the sights and sounds around him.

To put it lightly, the Pokémon League's grand audience chamber here in Kanto was enormous. Resting on the northern tip of the Indigo Plateau, the building was a testament to centuries past. Essentially a squared-off hallway, it was supported by gilded pillars of marble and jasper on all sides. Statues of differing pokémon Masters, Gym Leaders, and even a few Top Coordinators were set in small alcoves along the walls, and far above were stained glass incarnations of pokémon battles and triumphs letting in the last of the early summer Sun's rays.

At the head of the hall was the Grand Stage of Champions, a raised platform that served to formalize all leadership positions under the League here in the Kanto region. Tonight, Misty was to stand there in but a few minutes to receive official recognition and the documentation that would outline her duties as Gym Leader. In fact, the only reason Brock was even able to see the stage at all was because his seat was so close to it. Being a friend and former travelling companion of the inductee had its benefits.

Brock pinched his nose, feeling a headache begin to form behind his eyes. All in all, this was a grand event, and one he knew Ash wouldn't miss for the world. Let alone the evening being set aside for one of his best friends; the Ketchum boy would never pass the opportunity to challenge each and every top Trainer in attendance. So why wasn't he here? It didn't make any sense…

Brock jumped in his chair, sending streaks of pain from his knees from hitting the table, when a finger began tapping his shoulder. Turning himself around, Brock was greeted by Misty's smiling visage.

"Hey," he said simply, standing up while wincing a little. Taking a brief glance at Misty's bemused expression, Brock concluded that she must have known what pain would be brought upon her friend for startling him like that. _Well, that's typical Misty for you…_

"Hey yourself, big guy. It's so nice to see you again," she said. The two exchanged a quick hug, and Brock could feel the tension in Misty's back. She was nervous. Pulling out her reserved chair at the table, the Breeder let Misty take her seat, with him following suit a moment later. Deciding to start things off by calming frayed nerves, he dove right in.

"So, how's gym life treating you? I'm sure you've got at least a few stories for me about all those hotshot young Trainers coming through the door expecting an easy win," he winked.

Misty smiled at him, her eyes sparkling from the overhead lighting. "Thanks, Brock. I know what you're trying to do. Thank you. But I'm fine," she said, and her eyes began to harden ever so slightly. "Now cut the crap, Brock. Where is he? And don't ask me 'who'," she whispered earnestly, forestalling Brock's open mouth. "I'll be on stage in just a few moments. Go and find him. If he's having a pokémon battle right now, I'm going to–,"

Brock quickly cut her off. "That's just the thing, Misty. I've checked everywhere. I swear!" he said, while waving his hands in front of him. "He's…he's not here."

Brock knew when it came to Misty that one had best come out and tell the truth, for to do otherwise was to put one's life at risk. That didn't keep him from beginning to sweat, however.

Misty didn't say anything. She just sat there at first, glaring at Brock. Finally, she turned her head away, staring at her plate and picking at the edge of the perfect linen napkin that was part of her place at table.

When she turned her eyes toward Brock again, the anger was gone. In its place was a look that to most would be described as expressionless. Brock knew better.

"Why?" she said quietly. "Why didn't he come?" Brock didn't have a ready answer for that, at least an answer that would quell the hurt that he could see behind the mask she brought up. It had been known to himself as well as any number of close friends and family that Misty had been harboring feelings for the Ketchum boy for quite some time. Ash not showing up at a time like this would cut her deeply.

Regardless, Brock was spared any further questioning by the timely arrival of Lance, the currently reigning League Champion here in Kanto. The man with spiky red hair bowed deeply towards Misty. Dressed in a shimmering grey tux, with a matching maroon hip cape flowing about him, the man fit in rather well with the surrounding décor.

Straightening himself up to his full height once again, he spared a quick and friendly glance toward Brock before announcing, "Young Mistress Misty, it is time for the ceremony to begin. I am here to escort you to the stage."

Though not in the mood for Lance's overly-theatrical entrance, Misty held firm. Smiling cordially towards the Champion, she allowed him to link his arm through hers. Before they could depart, however, Misty threw one more meaningful look at Brock.

"Could we talk later?" she asked.

"Of course, Misty," Brock replied, his face showing pride for his friend. "Now go on. Everything will turn out."

_I hope._

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

The ceremony itself proceeded without a hitch. Misty, as the inductee, had been allowed to select much of the music for the evening, including those pieces to be used for the series of dances that were soon to follow. Brock, never one to allow a good opportunity to go to waste, was presently swooning from one beautiful girl to the next, hopelessly proclaiming his love to each one he met. But on his eighth try, he got a response that set his heart on fire.

"Well, young man, of course I'll dance with you!" The goddess in front of him replied. Brock was overjoyed, with tears of acceptance beginning to run down his face.

"Oh, thank you, my love. You will not regret this! Now, let your Brock take your hand and lead you onward toward a night you shall never forget. Let us…"

Brock, still on one knee and holding his true love's hand, trailed off. Then his face paled in recognition. "Uh, is that you, Mrs. Ketchum?"

"Of course, dear," The woman giggled lightly. "You know that I'll always dance with such a good friend of my little boy."

Brock stood up and brought himself to attention so fast that he thought he felt and heard his spine creak in protest. "Well, um…thank you, Mrs. Ketchum, for accepting this dance," he said stiffly, all the while beginning to pull on his collar with his free hand. _Wow, has the air conditioning utterly failed in here, or is it just me?_

Mrs. Ketchum gave him a knowing smile, and Brock realized she was trying very hard not to burst out laughing. Nevertheless, she said simply "Oh, don't be so formal. Just call me Delia."

They soon joined in on the present waltz, and Brock was finally beginning to relax. At least until Delia started talking again.

"Brock, do you happen to know where my son is? I know he'd be invited to the party, seeing as how he and Misty are such good friends, but I haven't seen him all evening."

For the second time that day, Brock began to sweat. "Oh, he's around," he said. That wasn't a lie, for Brock was sure Ash was still alive. Thus, he had to be around… somewhere on this planet, at least.

Fortunately, this was Delia Ketchum he was talking to. He knew she was quite intelligent – she had worked as an aide to the famous Professor Oak for some time – but the woman was never one to rest on details. So it was with great relief she seemed satisfied with Brock's answer.

"Oh, why am I concerned? He's probably just so excited at the prospect of meeting all these famous people that he simply forgot to say hi. If you see him, Brock, remind him to drop by home for awhile before he takes off on another adventure." She then cheerily disengaged herself from the young breeder as the current melody ended and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "I know he's been training in Johto for far too long. He and his pokémon need their rest once in awhile, you know." And with that, Mrs. Ketchum flowed back into the crowd.

It was only a moment later that Brock made a decision. He needed a drink. A stiff one. Hoping the usual fools to be found at any celebration had done their "job" and spiked the punch, Brock was making his way to a nearby table when he felt another tap on his shoulder. This time, however, he knew who it was.

Steeling himself for the inevitable, he turned himself around and was immediately jerked back towards the dance floor.

This time, the current tune was a little livelier, which made for the perfect excuse for Misty to drag and spin Brock across the hall toward the building's rear entrance which was located at the center of its northern wall. Somehow, the pair managed to make this all look natural, which meant they were able to exit outside into the surrounding gardens without anyone noticing.

The moon was out, shining down upon them along with its brethren the stars. It lit them both up due to their pale attire, casting its light through the dark vines that arched overhead, creating the central garden path that lead due north. The leaves were rustling softly in the evening breeze, the dappled path of black and white cascading downwards in terraces to the very brink of the Indigo Plateau.

Brock couldn't help but wonder that Ash should have been in his place right now, following behind the beautiful girl in front of him who was walking right up to the garden's safety railing.

Staring out together from the sharp drop directly in front of them, they gazed upon the large and wild plain that lay below, stretching off into the distance to meet the hazy Mishhou Mountains beyond. Not too far away, stretched out or grazing mutely was a herd of Tauros, their tails whipping up small clouds of dust as they fought off various pests even at this hour.

Sensing he wasn't going to say anything, it was Misty who finally broke the silence. "I heard what you said in there to Ash's mom. That answer won't work on me."

"I know."

Misty rested her elbows on the railing and twiddled her thumbs. Brock could tell that she was seething. "When we last talked, you'd said that you had known where he'd gone off to train. So where did he go?"

"He went back to the Johto region. It's the only place quiet enough for him now." It was true. As a trainer who kept placing ever higher in official League Tournaments around the world, Ash Ketchum was finding it increasingly difficult to stay out of the limelight. As a result, he'd gone off to the relative wilderness of Johto to train his mind, body, and pokémon in peace. He'd been gone for months.

More silence. Brock had a good idea what was coming. For, unlike most other regions around the world that hosted a Tournament, Johto was not far from Kanto. In fact, the two areas were part of the same continent. That meant –

"He had no excuse," Misty said in the softest of whispers. "Then he had no excuse not to come!" she repeated, this time practically yelling at the top of her lungs. Fortunately, the door to the garden was presently closed; Brock had made sure of that. Misty continued her rant.

"He could have come by bus. He could have even come by train, for Arceus's sake! Heck, he could have ridden here on a…bike," she finished lamely. Tears brimmed her eyes, and for once, Brock was at a loss as to what to do. Misty was completely right. Ketchum had no excuse this time.

"This was really important to me, Brock," she looked up at him again. The tears were finally streaking down her face, but she wiped them away angrily. She was angry at herself for letting anyone see her cry.

Brock finally made a move to embrace her, but she quickly turned away and headed out of the garden, hugging herself tightly as she followed the path that would take her around the building. Brock knew she'd call for the newly licensed vehicle and designated driver that she'd been given as part of her induction as sole Gym Leader.

Misty would be heading home, back to Cerulean City and her Gym. Brock would still follow her there, to privately celebrate amongst friends and family. But that look that she'd given him before she'd left had settled firmly on his mind. It was heartbreaking.

_Misty was right_, he repeated to himself. _Ash Ketchum, you have no excuse. When I'm done in Cerulean, I'm going to find you, and when I do, we're going to have a little chat._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Blurred strips of color. That's all that one could see if one didn't look a few feet beyond the windowpane.

Brock had been in an especially contemplative mood since beginning his newest quest to find his friend. He supposed that just sitting there gazing out a window while going over three hundred miles an hour would not improve his present brooding.

He shook his head in an effort to organize his thoughts, at least. While the modern magnet train he was taking would considerably cut the time needed to reach the Johto region, it was still going to take nearly a day to reach the end of the line. That line ended in Goldenrod City, Johto's largest metropolitan sprawl. In fact, he couldn't directly travel by train anywhere else; the regional governors wouldn't allow any other stations along the way to mar the lush landscape that was speeding past.

And so Brock decided he would have to force himself to relax, at least for the next half hour as the train would be spending that time underground. For he knew that afterwards, things were going to get much more interesting.

True to his thoughts, they did. No less than ten minutes after the underground passage flew away from him, a light tittering sound began to announce itself from Brock's travel pack.

Groaning inwardly, he opened up one of its many pockets and took out his Pokégear. Flipping the device open and holding it in front of him, Brock answered the incoming call and was rewarded with a pair of icy green eyes staring right back at him. "Hey, Misty," he said with forced cheer. "A little early for you to be up, isn't it?" Looking at the corner of the device, he confirmed that it was only quarter to seven in the morning.

"I'm glad for your continued concern for my well being," Misty said dryly. "Now where the _hell_ are you? Wait, why are the things outside your window moving so fa – you're on a train aren't you?" She suddenly demanded. Brock silently cursed himself for not being careful where he tilted the visual pickup on his device. That and the fact that he hadn't taken the call as audio-only.

"Well, I, uh, yes. I'm on a train," he admitted.

Two heartbeats passed. "To where?" Misty was eerily calm. Brock didn't like that one bit.

"Um,… Pewter City?" It was a lie. A horrible, horrible lie. Misty knew Brock was a terrible liar. He knew he was a terrible liar.

At least Misty was currently kind enough not to point that out. Instead, she simply cut to the chase. "You're going to see _him_, then?" It had been two days since the ceremony, and from that night the redhead no longer referred to Ash as anyone but _him_. That was one of the reasons Brock hadn't told anyone where he was going: to prevent Misty from murdering the poor boy for his insensitivity.

"Yes," he said. "But before you say anything, no, I don't know exactly where he is. It's been months since I last spoke to him. He could be anywhere. Besides," he smirked, trying to lighten the mood, "I wanted to talk to him when I next met him. Not bring you along and have to be satisfied with praying over him while he's in traction at the nearest hospital."

"I think I could manage to control myself."

All that answered her on the other end was a quirked eyebrow. "Fine," she grumbled. "Just…let me know how it goes, okay? Keep me updated."

"You've got it. Take care," he said. Misty merely nodded, then hung up. Brock let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. _Well, that went a lot better than I expected. Of course, that still doesn't mean she won't try to follow me._

But Brock had other even more important things to worry about than a crazed teenage girl. First and foremost would be finding out where Ketchum even was.

Fortunately, Brock thought he might have something to go on. Ash had mentioned to him once that he had wanted to bring all his pokémon that he'd previously battled with together in one place to train. Brock had thought this a strange comment to make: trainers were usually only allowed to carry up to six pokémon at a time. In fact, as a pokémon Breeder, Brock was all too aware that even one pokémon was a chore to take proper care of. But Ash had obtained dozens of these creatures over the years. Therefore, the kid would have needed special permission to obtain his entire fighting force.

Brock snapped his fingers. _Of course. It's so obvious._ Flipping his Pokégear back open, Brock immediately dialed Professor Oak's number.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Unfortunately, the answer wasn't so obvious. Though Professor Oak was the caretaker of all of Ash's stored pokémon, even he had not heard from the recluse Trainer in quite some time, let alone be privy to Ash's secret training grounds.

"It's been weeks since he called," the older man was currently saying. "And I most certainly did not give him permission to release all of his pokémon into his care. Not only because I would never give permission to such a request, but also because he never asked for such a thing."

Brock considered his other options. "Well," he said slowly. "Can you at least tell me what his current team consists of, Professor?" The graying man on the other end, whose face was creased with years of laughter, smiled back. "Of course I can. It's readily accessible in his public record. I'll send the file directly to that device you're carrying."

Mere seconds later, an icon pinged on Brock's lower view screen. "Thank you, Professor. I'm sure this will help."

"Take care now. Call me anytime if you need anything." And with that, the waving visage departed.

Brock then proceeded to retrieve the file. Obviously, Ash's ever-present Pikachu was at the top of the list. However, no one else on the roster served to jog anything in Brock's memory.

Then, something clicked. There was one thing that stood out, but it wasn't so much what was there as what wasn't. _There's only five pokémon currently registered on his team._ Normally, this fact wouldn't have been of concern, for many Trainers kept an open spot on their lineup in case they caught a new member. But Ash rarely caught new pokémon.

That left just two likely options. Either Ketchum was only working with an incomplete team, or he was also using an unregistered pokémon. And it was the latter option that was interesting, because there was only one pokémon that Brock could think of that Ash would use that would fit the description. _Charizard._

Digging hastily through his bag, Brock finally procured the item he sought: his little blue book. The book that he kept by his side at all times, and served to chronicle all the beautiful girls he'd met, or had wanted to meet, on his travels.

Resisting the incredible urge to browse through its worn and often yellowed pages, he finally found the entry he was looking for. The phone number he had managed to procure back then was old, but, what else could he do? There were no other leads.

Brock dialed the number and crossed his fingers.

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It was yet another dull day.

The sun was blazing down on the scorched earth below, the canyon she was presently scouring her sight with being filled to the brim with the cries of great beasts of war. Occasionally, a jet of flame would reach up from the forested groves below, trying to lick the sky and aid the sun in imparting heat to the world.

Yes, it was a day like any other. _Well, no, actually,_ thought Liza the Beast Trainer as she heard the telephone next to her bed begin to ring. _Apparently, this isn't just any day. I'm actually getting a call._ Suddenly realizing the stupidity of her just standing there in curiosity of the device vibrating in front of her, she earnestly picked up the receiver, intent on talking to someone other than herself or Charla for a change.

"Hello?" she asked. All she heard at first from the other end was static. Then, quickly realizing the problem, she went to readjust the satellite transceiver that allowed her to have service this far out. "Hello, are you still there?"

"Is this Liza?" a strangely familiar voice asked. Liza fought hard to place it.

"Yes," she asked. "But it's rather rude for the caller to not introduce himself. Who are you, and…well, how did you get this number?"

The voice decided to ignore the latter question, but she swore she heard sobbing when it replied, "You don't remember me, my sweet?"

'_My sweet?' no one's ever called me anything like that before, except…_ "Uh, wait. Are you that Ketchum kid's friend? Brian?"

"Brock" he corrected. Yes, she definitely heard sobbing this time. But it was quickly replaced with a serious tone. "Yes, I am a friend of his. In fact, it's on his behalf that I'm calling. Do you happen to know if he had stopped by to visit recently? Possibly to pick up his Charizard?"

"Why, yes, he did," she stated fondly. Though she didn't quite recall his friends who had been travelling with him at the time, Liza did recall the spunky pokémon Trainer himself. He had made quite the impression on the residents of Johto during his previous travels, what with his never-ending passion and love for pokémon and the art of the battle.

"But I wouldn't say 'recently'," she corrected. "It was about two months ago, now. Said he had some special training in mind for his pokémon, and that included Charizard if he was so willing." Though technically no longer under Ash's possession, his Charizard deemed the boy a good and trustworthy companion and was therefore willing to do whatever Ash asked of him.

That, and Liza had realized the poor thing was bored out of its mind. Like its trainer, the fiery pseudo-dragon was passionate about constantly testing its strength. As a result, it was amongst the strongest of its species here in the Charicific Valley. And that was saying something. It could learn nothing further while cooped up in these lands, and so she had been happy to see him depart with his former master.

"Ah. I see. Well, that's good news, I guess. Did Ash happen to mention where he would be headed?"

"Well, no, not really," was the response. Brock closed his eyes in frustration, even though Liza couldn't see it. _And my one lead ends up at a wall. The walls of a valley filled with flaming monsters, no less. How poetic._ "But," continued the voice, and Brock perked up at the sound, "he did ride out on Charizard when he left. And he didn't stay within the confines of the Valley when he took off. Headed off to the north, as I recall."

Brock fell silent, looking out the window at the now plainly visible Mount Silver rising in the distance. He tried to recall what exactly was due north of Charicific Valley, and couldn't think of anything that he and his friends had gone through on their previous adventures that would draw Ash back there. He forcefully brought himself back to the conversation.

"Thanks, Liza. For everything. You've been a big help, I'm sure."

"I don't know about that. I just gave you a direction your friend might have taken."

"I know. But it's better than what I had." Brock then ended the conversation in the best way he knew how: with a request for a dinner date, time, and place. As usual, it was promptly denied, and the disheartened pokémon Breeder hung up and hung his head in defeat. It was going to be a long trip.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

What had begun as a simple training exercise had turned into an utter nightmare. Balls of green flame were shooting everywhere, hitting the trees of the surrounding wood, and setting the hedges on fire. His loyal yellow companion was hot on his heels, however, so at least one thing was right in the world.

They were running through the brush, now, all the while choking on the surrounding clouds of pungent smoke and burning sap. But that was better than staying anywhere near the source of all this trouble. Screams and roars of anger and aguish cut through the air and thickened his blood.

And although Ash Ketchum knew he had gotten himself into tight spots before, this was something even he couldn't handle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Whitney decided that she loved the city just as much as she loved life on the ranch with her dear uncle. She made this decision instantly and without further thought, just like nearly all the other decisions she had made throughout her life. It was one of the things she was known for as Goldenrod City's local Gym Leader.

She had made her decision right here, while she walked briskly along Goldenrod's Central Avenue, turning west down Eighth Street toward her favorite diner. Though the sprawling metropolis was to most eyes uncompromisingly modern, with massive skyscrapers that stood as prisms for the sun's heavy rays, one could find a quaint shop or two if one was willing to look.

And Whitney was always looking. Ever curious, she had found for herself numerous routes or "shortcuts" as she called them, throughout the city. However, as many a passing traveler had figured out over the years, the ever helpful Gym Leader was not a good source of directions. She travelled by instinct, and had therefore led many a pour soul astray, including those who sought a Gym match with her. Fortunately, there had been no accidents.

Passing off such negative thoughts with ease, the fuchsia-haired Leader entered her favorite establishment on the West Side. All the regulars knew her by sight, and she greeted them all with her heart-melting smile.

"Hey, Marcus," she called, beckoning the diner's owner over to the bar as she sat down at her usual place.

"What'll it be? Today's special, right?" He asked with a twinkle in his eye. Whitney merely smiled and nodded. Everyone here knew she'd eat whatever the special was. And that made the owner quite happy, for he was free to test out all sorts of new dishes on someone who was going to give an honest opinion of them.

Having had her usual glass of Moo Moo Milk set before her – which she knew came directly from her uncle's farm, no less – Whitney decided to take a sip and have a gander around the establishment. The walls, as usual, were a bright white that contrasted with the otherwise pure red décor. Everything from the tables and chairs, right down to the napkin holders was the same shade of crimson. Whitney loved the contrast so much, she was even wearing it herself in her attire. She felt it accented her pink locks nicely.

Continuing her appraising gaze, her eyes finally settled on a new face. That was odd; this was a Wednesday, after all, and such days were never ones to fill the place with passersby. Then she took a more careful look. The man was tall with tanned skin, that much was obvious, and he was well-built. A chiseled faced with slanted eyes and framed with spiky brown hair, she decided that he looked rather cute. But he also looked sad and seemed to be currently deep in thought.

However, any further inspection of this new distraction of hers would have to wait, for her meal had arrived. She dove eagerly into what Marcus had coined the lemon-flavored sausage chili-dog, whatever that was.

With a puckered face smeared with mustard, Whitney was chewing with great joy when the new customer suddenly sprung from his booth in the corner, shouted a quick "Thanks for the meal, it was almost as tasty as what I've made at home," and proceeded to slap a fifty dollar bill on the counter before dashing off.

Whitney was stunned speechless, let alone her mouth was full of mystery meat. Realizing that a wrong must be righted, she quickly paid the right price for both her meal and the stranger's, and then dashing out of the establishment she waved the fifty in her hand and started screaming, "Wait, Wait! You overpaid! Come back!"

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Brock darted out of the gaudy diner at full speed. He'd been increasingly worried over what had happened to his good friend Ash, and wanted to get his search underway as soon as possible.

For the more he thought about it, the more it simply didn't make sense that Ash would have missed something so obviously important to one of his friends. This was because the selfless Trainer deemed his pokémon and anyone else who was close to him as a friend, and his friends were his treasures.

As a result, there was only one conclusion: the kid was in trouble, somewhere. And Brock was currently running toward Goldenrod's famous bicycle shop because he thought he'd figured out exactly where Ketchum might be.

A bus, or even a rental car would have been preferable right now. However, the Johto region was nothing if not concerned for the environment. Vehicular roadways were only truly present here in the city and its surrounding suburbs. Beyond that, the only paths through the wilderness were the trails set aside for wandering Trainers, and that meant either walking or pedaling one's way to the next destination.

Brock's left eyebrow twitched. He was getting another headache from all the blood suddenly pumping through his body, and that infernal screaming from behind him was not helping matters. He decided to confront the whatever-it-was that was making such a racket rather than continue to suffer; it was getting closer and he had to do something.

"I'm sorry," he started, his tone icy, "but could you please…" What little of Brock's eyes that one could see lit up as if someone had set spotlights behind his lids.

"…Pinch me, because I must be dreaming!" he finished. The woman running towards him at full tilt was the pinnacle of perfection. With hair the color of cotton candy and eyes filled with liquid amber, Brock was lost for words. His jaw began to drop open as he looked around himself desperately and realized that the young lady could only be running toward him

"Yes, that's right, my love: fall into the strong arms of your 'Brockie' and... hey, why are you holding money?" he asked. And then it dawned on him. _Oh dear Arceus_, he thought, and was so distraught with all that had been happening lately he didn't question what he concluded next. _She thinks I'm one of _those _guys._

Whitney noticed both complete changes of behavior in this very strange young man. "Hey, are you ok?"

"Stay away from me," he pleaded, and then took off yet again. Whitney chased after him.

People along the sidewalks were finally beginning to notice the two deranged young people yelling back and forth at each other and dodging in and out of the crowd along Central Avenue. Finally, it was exhaustion that brought the chase to a halt.

"Why are you following after me?" Brock gasped out, and collapsed into a sitting position along the walkway. The pink-haired girl sat down next to him, though she was noticeably less out of breath, and threw the money at his face.

"I was just trying to give you your money back! You way overpaid at the restaurant."

"What?" Brock asked. He finally took a good at the young woman before him, without the aid of lovesickness this time. Recognizing the Gym Leader for who she was, Brock put two and two together and began to blush deeply.

"Oh," he stated simply. "I'm sorry, I thought – you know what, it doesn't matter," he concluded when he realized that Whitney obviously had no idea as to what he had thought back there. It was for the best.

"Well," she said quickly, "you gave me quite a workout. You ran flat out for over six blocks. You were lucky that it was me who was chasing after you. Anyone else in this city of lazy bums would never have been able to keep up," she joked.

Brock laughed, taken by the complete ludicrousness of the whole situation. "So," he said, "While we're just sitting here, I might as well ask a question of you, since you're a local." The Gym Leader just smiled and let him continue. "Do you happen to know the price of a bike around these parts?"

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

The price for a bike was, in fact, far less than Brock had expected. Only three hundred for the whole mountaineering set, and he took it gratefully. He fully expected the trails to be crawling with roots and mountain water runoff.

And what's more, he had found himself with a partner for the journey. After hearing Brock's story as to why he was back here and whom he was looking for on their way to the shop, Whitney had insisted on coming with him. Fortunately, the young pokémon Breeder didn't have to pay for a second bike; Whitney had rather conveniently found an old unused bike voucher in one of her pockets and was able to get everything she needed for free.

Leaving the shop and its grumbling owner behind, Brock and Whitney set off. That was when the Gym Leader realized two things: she'd forgotten to tell anyone where she'd be going, and she didn't know where she'd be going in the first place.

Brock obliged on both counts, handing her his Pokégear while saying, "I think I know exactly where Ash went. You see, at first, when Liza had said he'd ridden north, I'd assumed that Ash was heading off to Lake Rage to train." He paused for Whitney to finish her phone call.

Snapping the communicator shut, Whitney nodded while handing it back to him. "Well, sure. That is due north of Charicific Valley. But you said 'at first'?"

"Yes. The problem with that theory is that the place is simply too exposed for the guy to work in obscurity, away from the public eye," he said. As they both began to pedal again, he continued. "So I used the topographic maps that I had of the surrounding areas, and I discovered there's really only one concealed place in the entire Johto northern hemisphere." He paused and glanced over at Whitney. "The Dragon Holy Land."

Whitney gasped. The Dragon Holy Land wasn't just secluded; it was a downright myth to the public. No one, except the Blackthorn City Gym Leader and a very select number of trusted individuals, knew the exact location of either the valley or its entrance.

"I've been there before," the breeder said to her, noticing her look. "And I remember where the entrance is. We should have no problem getting inside. Besides, I know of a shortcut to Blackthorn. We can be there in three days if we're quick about it."

Whitney wasn't so sure. Suddenly, another thought struck her. They would be on the road for days, and she hadn't packed a thing. She said as much to Brock, embarrassed almost beyond words for such a rookie mistake. He merely chuckled. "You haven't travelled this way in a long time, right? Don't worry. I always come prepared. We have plenty of supplies for the road."

Relieved, the Gym Leader still spoke earnestly. "Alright, but I must warn you. Clair has changed since you and Ash were around. She's much more strict than she used to be about this Holy Land; about anything concerning the Blackthorn Gym. She may not allow you to enter as you think."

"I am positive that once I explain that Ash could very well be in danger, that she'll let us both in to search," he stated with complete confidence.

Whitney glanced down at the road and whispered, "Well, you'll find out, I suppose."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next couple of days were rather uneventful, with both Brock and Whitney trading places on and off as navigator. Along the rough and oft-washed out paths they cut their treads, with greenery whipping by on both sides of the road. They met few travelers along the way, and that was only along the well-worn Route 35 that led north from Goldenrod.

Soon, they reached the entrance to Johto's National Park, which signaled a turn to the east. When they'd been riding for about an hour, Brock stopped his bike and turned himself around in his seat. "By the way, we're heading straight to Violet City." The term 'City' was a misnomer: the place was a glorified township, and a pretty small one at that.

"What? Why" Whitney knew as well as everyone else that they would have to soon turn north again in order to reach Blackthorn. There was simply no other way, let alone through a cluster of hovels in the middle of nowhere.

Brock allowed himself a small smile. "Like I said, there's a shortcut we can take, and it's right past Violet City's eastern border. A dark cavern resides there and stretches for miles underground, connecting directly to Route 45. From there, we'll be able to reach Blackthorn from the south."

Whitney had her doubts, but the man in front of her radiated so much confidence she couldn't resist. "Alright," she conceded, making another of her snap decisions. "Let's go then."

"Good," he said, obviously relieved by her answer. To be honest, he'd expected her to be a lot harder to convince. _That's strange_, he thought. _Why does she trust me so much?_

"We can travel for a few more hours today, and then we'll have to stop. The cave is said to be dangerous, filled with many strong pokémon. I don't want to have to make camp right in its middle."

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

"Wow, Brock. This is great," said Whitney, who was currently stuffing her face with a spoonful of Brock's stew. After their pokémon had all been fed and stored safely away, Brock and his newfound companion had set about gathering the materials necessary to make a quick campsite for the night. Up above their heads and about a quarter mile away, the dreary opening to their shortcut led into the mountainside.

The breeder looked up from his own bowl, the flames from the fire casting a warm glow about his features. "Thanks," he beamed. "I always appreciate a good review."

"So," the Gym Leader stated after gulping down the last of her meal, "what is it that you do, Brock? I don't think I'd ever asked the last time you were in the area."

Brock thought she had, but then again, it had been years. "Well, technically, I'm a Trainer just like you. Except I'd prefer not to battle my pokémon."

Usually such comments garnered strange looks from those he'd met, but Whitney merely had a curious look on her face. She begged him to continue. "Go on," she urged. "So why do you even have them?"

"Because I do love pokémon, and I don't really want to see them get hurt. So I decided to become a Breeder to teach myself and others how to care for these incredible creatures," he said with sudden heat to his voice.

Standing up, he began to pick up their empty bowls. "I want to show how they can become stronger, so that if they do ever battle, the risk of injury to themselves and their Trainers is reduced. And someday, I hope to solve some of the problems that certain pokémon have. Genetic deficiencies, allergic reactions; I think I've made some progress with the latter in the past couple of years with my custom pokémon food mixes."

By now, Brock had stood up fully in his speech and was beginning to pace. Realizing how he must look, he quickly sat down and coughed. "Sorry about that. I can get a little carried away," he stuttered. Whitney just giggled.

"So, what about you?" he asked as he busied himself with scrubbing out his pots and utensils.

Whitney idly wondered how the guy fit all of those supplies in one pack before responding. "Well, you know. This and that. Normal Gym Leader-ish stuff."

"No, I don't" he responded lightly. "I've been out of the loop for a long while. Enlighten me. We've got time." He gestured with his soap-covered spoon toward the sky above. "The stars haven't even come out yet."

No response. Whitney merely looked uncomfortable. Brock thought furiously. _Oh, I know. Why don't I mention one of her pokémon. One sure way to a girl's heart is through her pokémon._ "What about your Miltank? I'm sure she's gotten a lot stronger since that time Ash battled you for his Plain Badge. You still practicing that Rollout maneuver?"

Instead of getting better, Whitney seemed to shrink in front of him.

She merely said shortly, "She died. Last season." Without another word, Goldenrod City's prized Leader walked over to her borrowed sleeping bag and curled up inside it.

Brock could soon hear her breathing become regular, but not before he swore he heard a few stifled sobs.

"Goodnight," he whispered to her, before he tore his sorrowful gaze away from her sleeping form and set about a silent watch.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

It seemed that the clouds had traded places the next morning, with a heavy pre-dawn fog thoroughly set about the surrounding land. And if that wasn't gloomy enough, the cave itself happily obliged to add to the misery.

At least a good night's rest had left one person in a fine mood. Whitney was practically dancing along, following behind Brock at a distance of about three paces and humming a rather lovely tune. It was as if last night's conversation had never even existed. He shook his head, resigning himself to never being able to understand the female species.

Brock himself was rather grumpy, if only for the fact that he'd have to leave his brand new bike behind. Even if the cave's passages were wide enough to allow them, the entrance itself was only accessible by way of a steep series of switchbacks. There would be no way for either himself or his partner to carry their transportation to the top. Whitney didn't mind, of course; she'd never had to pay for hers.

Upon entering the mountain, though, the young girl began to look apprehensive. "It's rather dark in here, isn't it? Oh, I know!" She reached behind her belt and expanded a pokéball. "Come on out, Jigglypuff!"

"Jiggly!" cried the pink ball of fluff as she was released in a bright flash of red. The pokémon turned to look at its master, waiting for a command.

"Sweetie, would you mind using Flash to light up the cave for us and lead the way?"

The rotund pokémon nodded assent, and began to hum its name quietly for a few seconds as it built up enough energy, finally releasing it in the form of a bright white orb around its head. Strutting off ahead, the pokémon turned around to the rest of the group and beckoned them onward with its stubby arms.

"Spunky little thing, isn't it?" Brock commented. Whitney just winked at him.

"Of course. A pokémon always begins to take after its Trainer." And with that, they moved on.

Half an hour had passed in silence, until Brock bent down and began tracing his fingers strangely along the floor, inspecting its surface with a frown of concern.

Curious as to what he was doing, Whitney signaled her Jigglypuff to halt, and then went over to bend over Brock's shoulder. "What's going on? Found some answer from the great beyond?"

Brock didn't take the joke. "For awhile now, I've been looking around us, trying to decide how these passages have been made," he explained. "At first, I'd noticed that the walls were worn down and undulating, meaning they were naturally formed from water runoff and the like. Later though, I noticed that these walls were formed artificially. By pokémon."

He stood up and let Whitney run her sight along his finger. "See that?" he asked. "Those parallel cuts in the floor, in groups of three? Those came from a Dugtrio, a higher level Ground-type. We don't really need to worry about those. From all indications, they're pretty shy towards humans. But these," He said gravely. "These aren't from a Dugtrio."

The marks he was referring to sliced deeply into the floor and ceiling.

"Well, what are they from?" Whitney was beginning to get nervous. She knew that Brock hailed from a Rock-type Gym, and therefore could be trusted when it came to pokémon that dwelled underground.

The chiseled features of the man's face darkened. "It's a Steelix," he spat. Steelix were massive snake-like pokémon whose segmented bodies were impregnated with naturally occurring metallic elements. They weighed several tons.

"But this doesn't make any sense at all," he continued. "Steelix shouldn't be residing in this area. Unless…"

Brock suddenly grabbed her hand and pushed her pokémon back the way they had come. "We have to get out of here! Right now! Go! Go!"

"But why?" gasped Whitney. Her hand was beginning to hurt from Brock's death-grip. "I thought you wanted to take this shortcut!"

"Not anymore!" he shouted back. The rest of his reply was cut off by a deep rumbling sound that came up from the earth and shook them all right off their feet. Chips of rock began to fly from the ceiling and pelted them with cuts and grime.

"What now?" Whitney shouted, fear readily apparent in her voice. Poor Jigglypuff was beginning to run around in panic.

"The cave is collapsing! That Steelix is doing it!"

"How do you know?"

"Just trust me! I know!" Struggling to rise, the Breeder gave up the effort when the ground began to part at his feet, instead dragging the Gym Leader with him away from the entrance.

With a final churning and a guttural roar from the deep, a shape akin to an oversized shovel burst from the ground, sending a haze of what used to be solid rock throughout the area. Covering their mouths from the caking dust, the group stared up in horror at pale yellow eyes that glimmered in the near-darkness.

Whitney's mind locked up. She couldn't move. All she could do was grip Brock tighter and hope that the end wouldn't be as painful as she'd always imagined it could be.

But then she heard a high-pitched wailing a few feet away from her.

It was her Jigglypuff, its arms spread out protectively and standing between her and this dark demon that was sniffing the air attentively, taking in their scent and stiffening its body for a lunge.

Seeing her partner and friend stand up to this monster gave Whitney courage she never knew she had. In a calm voice that surprised her and her pokémon, she commanded, "Jigglypuff, use Flash at maximum power!"

Whether it was fuelled by fear or utter determination, the little ball-like creature launched a searing beam of light right at the Steelix's face. The snake pokémon recoiled, groaning and chuffing in agony, its eyes unused to such exposure.

While they were fortunate that the Flash attack had stunned the beast, it did not stop it from causing any more harm to the environment. With the pain from the attack driving it mad, the Steelix began to shudder and beat itself against the rocky walls, causing an avalanche.

"Run!" Brock shouted, regaining his senses. He made to pick Whitney up off the floor when a sudden and tearing pain vibrated throughout his skull. Within seconds, he'd blacked out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Brock cracked a mud-caked eyelid open. The world was spinning. He shut the eyelid and said a quick prayer. He tried again.

Deciding the situation was not about to improve, he kept his eyes open this time and let the nauseating feeling run its course as he lay on a pile of rubble. About the only good thing was that he managed to keep his breakfast down.

Turning his head to the side, he noticed two things that surprised him. First was the fact that Whitney lay literally right next to him, which he would have thoroughly enjoyed had he not been exhausted. The second thing was that despite his feeling ill, his head didn't hurt at all.

Not about to question this stroke of luck, he got up and went over to check on his companion. Though a little embarrassed, he quickly checked her vitals, laying his head upon her chest and concluding that she was breathing regularly. _Good_. _She hasn't inhaled any significant amounts of dust_.

Letting her rest, Brock began to inspect exactly where they were. Even though they had survived an avalanche, the chamber within which they found themselves looked relatively untouched. In fact, where he had lain was the refuse from a collapsed entryway, possibly leading back to the same chamber where the Steelix had appeared.

Looking back at Whitney, he noticed her dejected Jigglypuff keeping a silent vigil by her side, still holding a Flash orb high in the air.

"Hey, were you the one that dragged us in here?" he asked. The pink pokémon looked up and gave Brock a curl of an eyebrow that clearly stated, _Are you kidding me? I barely weigh ten pounds!_

Shaking his head, Brock continued his survey, and was rewarded with a sight that almost made him want to jump out of his skin.

There, shallowly breathing upon an outcropping of rock, was an Absol. Brock's heart rate began to drop when he realized it was apparently asleep. Though rare, at least this pokémon was supposed to belong here, unlike his first encounter.

His Breeder's instincts taking over, the former Gym Leader hurried over to the creature. With a four-legged body rippling with muscles and claws and a well-proportioned head, the Absol was a truly handsome sight.

Cursory prodding revealed that the Dark-type was most definitely male, and relatively uninjured with only minor bruising on its left front shoulder and a few cracked nails. Even the carbon-laced blade which protruded from the side of its head seemed completely intact.

However, after placing his hand over its forehead, he frowned. It had a high fever, much higher than anything he could currently treat. If left alone, the pokémon could die.

He had but one choice. He would have to capture it.

While hearing Whitney begin to moan in the background as she regained consciousness, Brock unclipped an empty pokéball from his belt and tapped the creature's shoulder with it.

Suddenly transmuted into a billowing cloud of energy, the Absol disappeared into Brock's hand. The ball didn't even wobble once, and Brock grimaced at the sight. _It didn't resist at all. It must have been really weak. At least he'll be kept in stasis until I can get to the nearest Pokémon Center_.

Getting up from where he'd been kneeling, Brock quickly ran back to Whitney and handed her a canteen from his pack. "Don't speak," he said. "Just drink."

Taking a slug of the now-lukewarm liquid, she gagged. "Ugh," she choked out groggily, "it tastes like I've got silt in my mouth."

"That's because you do," he stated dryly. "Can you walk? We need to get moving now that we've started talking. That Steelix can likely hear us."

Whitney held out her hand and let him pull her upright. She seemed to be shaken but otherwise alright.

Quickly checking his Pokégear, Brock concluded from its map that the passage ahead still led in the general direction of Route 45. Satisfied as the situation allowed, he beckoned the others to follow.

By some miracle, they had been allowed to travel along in peace for a few hours, right up until a ray of hope appeared from the black stretch ahead. A pinprick of light: the exit. Apparently, their tormenter had decided they'd come far enough, for it was at that moment that Brock felt the earth begin to vibrate again. But this time, he was ready for it.

"Sudowoodo, come on out!" From the thrown ball, what appeared as a stubby, tree-like pokémon with arms, legs, and a simple face emerged with a cheer of its name.

This time, the thirty-foot-long monster blasted through the wall ahead of them, attempting to cut them off. The spikes from its body reflecting the light from the Flash, it spared no time charging the group.

"Sudowoodo, use Double Edge," Brock commanded instantly. His little Rock-type obeyed, needing no further instructions from its master. Its body bathed in a golden light, it leapt gracefully into the air, ricocheted off the ceiling, and dove straight for the iron behemoth.

"Get down!" Brock shouted, pulling his companions to the side as Sudowoodo hit its target, impacting the Steelix directly on the top of its head. With great force that belied its size, it managed to drive the giant's head directly into the ground, rending a deep gouge in its surface.

Using the wreckage from the attack as cover, the Breeder withdrew his prized pokémon back into its ball. By now, everyone knew the drill. They ran for their lives.

Bursting out from the cave into the late afternoon, the Steelix barreling behind and only angry from the preemptive attack, Brock wasn't all that surprised to find out that the exit dropped away onto a steep hill.

Bracing himself for the impact, he vaguely noticed Whitney managing to recall her screaming Jigglypuff before they began tumbling down the grassy knoll.

Knowing it was pointless to try and slow his momentum now, he did all that he could do: tuck himself into a fetal position to try and minimize the damage. It worked, up until he hit the line of brush at the base of the hill that lead into the forest nearby.

Snapping a few twigs along the way, their dirty fingers shredding his shirt and vest, the wind was knocked out of him as the much lighter Whitney, who had been trailing behind, drove into his chest at speed.

Off in the distance, the cave's exit began to emit what appeared to be smoke as a muffled roar split the air. Unbeknownst to the two Trainers, the way they had come was now blocked, the Steelix having decided that it didn't want any more intruders.

Disentangling herself from the surrounding brush, Whitney realized that she had landed on something soft. Realizing it was Brock, she quickly got off of him and began to panic when she noticed he wasn't breathing.

"No," she said, the sound barely audible. "Not like this. Not again. Not so soon after…" She couldn't finish. The thought was just too painful.

Brock suddenly inhaled, a pained sound that was so harsh it startled Whitney from her position kneeling over him. Turning himself over and spitting mud and bits of turf into the matted branches around them, he then took a few deep breaths. "Water?" he asked.

Whitney dumbly handed him her canteen. Brock thought it tasted like a gift from the gods.

Handing the empty container back, the Breeder and Gym Leader just stared at each other. That is, until Brock began to laugh.

At first it was barely noticeable, but it soon turned into a full-blown chuckle. _She looks ridiculous_, he thought with no small amount of mirth.

Whitney was, in fact, a mess. Where her outfit had been a starched white blouse with matching shorts and pinstriped with red, it now looked mostly tan with spots of black and green from their recent descent.

And that said nothing of her hair, which was a matted mess and speared with what appeared to be at least half the bush they were sitting in. He was sure he must have looked even worse.

His companion at first just stared back at him as if he lost his mind, but fortunately, laughter never needed to make sense. So it was a matter of moments before the Gym Leader's lilting laughter joined his, and they only stopped after their sides began to ache.

Recovering as much as the circumstances could allow, Brock hoisted himself and Whitney off the soiled floor and looked around. Noticing a clearing to the south of where they stood, he recognized the highly packed dirt of a trail.

"Well, that must be Route 45," he stated rather needlessly. There were no other recorded trails anywhere in the area, at least none that would be so well maintained.

"It looks like we ended up here early," he continued, looking briefly up at the Sun overhead. "It's only mid-afternoon. That Steelix was good for something after all." He then proceeded to lead the way.

It was only after they had walked the path for awhile and it began to turn north in the proper direction that Whitney spoke again.

"Hey, Brock," she asked.

"Yes?" Glancing over, the Breeder could see the girl was deep in thought.

"How did you know that pokémon was going to just attack us like that?"

Brock let some of his remaining joviality creep into his voice. "Pokémon food," he stated simply.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The Breeder let out another short burst of laughter, rubbing his forehead. "Well, you see, there shouldn't have been any Steelix in that cave to begin with. If I'd known there would be, I wouldn't have tried to take us through there. That's because this area is filled with limestone, and Steelix hate that stuff. It tastes bitter to them."

"So?" she prodded.

"So only the nasty ones eat stuff they don't like," he stated firmly. "I don't know why, they just do."

"Do – do you think it was trying to eat us, too?" She saw Brock's gaze darken slightly, and he avoided her eyes.

"Again, I don't know," he said quietly.

"Oh," was her only response. And she left it at that.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

He was running out of time. He knew that.

But he had to keep running anyway, if only for the safety of the others.

Sparing a glance at the little red-and-white orbs strapped across his belt, he hoped his friends would be safe in stasis for awhile longer. Most of them were already injured; in fact, only his Pikachu by his side continued to look ready for battle.

But that was a relative statement. The poor electric mouse was filthy from a failed attempt by both itself and its master to lose their scent in a field of mud. The tactic hadn't fooled their pursuers in the end, but it had bought them enough time for a brief rest.

But now, they had to start running again, and Ash Ketchum thought with some despair that there were few places left to hide.

Hearing a roaring sound in the background that was, thankfully, not a direct sign of trouble, the soon-to-be Pokemon Master and his closest friend spotted a set of running rapids through the tree line.

Desperate, Ash scooped up Pikachu and made a break for it, running along the bank to the inevitable falls at its end. _If this doesn't wash us from the trail, then it looks like we're done_, he thought.

His Pikachu looked up forlornly from his arms. "Pikapi," it said, hugging itself closer to him.

"I'm sorry. Sorry for getting you into this, Pikachu," Ash whispered, his tongue gone dry.

He jumped.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Blackthorn City, despite its name, was in reality a modest township. Surrounded on three sides by natural walls and set against the mountain range that shared its name, it was essentially a natural fortress, and had been used as such in times long past.

As a result, the local Pokémon Center's resident nurse was bored out of her skull. She was bored because so few travelling Trainers or sightseers bothered making the trek to reach the secluded place.

Reading a trying magazine article about pokémon grooming habits with her feet propped up on the front desk, Joy was thus surprised when she heard the front door to the Center cycle open. And she did a double-take when a pair of dirt pillars entered the building. At least, that was how they initially looked from the corner of her eye.

And she started to become a little frightened when the taller one came running up to the reception desk and grasped her hands gently in his.

"Oh, Nurse Joy!" it shouted. "Do my eyes deceive me, or has an angel descended from on high to refresh my parched soul and those of my pokémon. Oh, will you please," and at this, it reached onto its belt and set three pokéballs before her, "accept my humble friends into your care? And then, after you have finished with the tender magic only your hands can yield, maybe we could go on a date and –,"

The rest of the thing's speech was cut off as it was roughly smacked upside the head by a rather tattered-looking young woman with pink hair.

"I apologize for my, um, friend's behavior. We've been travelling for awhile and he's exhausted." Whitney then cast a death glare down at Brock, who was holding his head gingerly. "And delirious," she added.

"Oh. I see" said Nurse Joy, not quite believing what she had heard. "Uh, do you have any pokémon for me to treat as well?" she asked, doing her best to settle back into her routine.

"Yes I do. Here you go," Whitney smiled sweetly, handing over her Jigglypuff. She then glanced over herself, grimacing at her state of affairs. "Oh, and would you mind if I troubled you for a set of clothes?"

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

As a responsible Gym Leader, Clair of the Blackthorn Gym made herself available at all reasonable hours of the day to accept challengers. To her, unlike most Gym Leaders, such a schedule meant she was in her office most days from dawn until the sun had set well below the mountains, turning the sky a deep indigo.

Nevertheless, as with most members of her community, she was still startled when she heard a soft rap at her door. Visits during early evening hours were incredibly rare, and she usually spent such time meditating at her desk.

Soon, her door opened and her assistant, a small and quiet fellow who was also the Gym's historian, entered. Getting right to the point, he bowed slightly and stated, "You have a pair of visitors, madam."

"Show them in."

The little man nodded, opened the door further and in came Goldenrod City's Gym Leader, followed by a tall young man with weathered features and spiked brown hair. They both looked rather tired.

Clair immediately stood and came from behind her desk to greet her fellow peer in Johto's Pokemon League. "Welcome, Whitney," she said warmly. "It certainly is a surprise to see you here. If you'd called ahead, I could have made proper arrangements for…I'm sorry if I appear to be rude, but, why are you here?"

"I believe I can answer that question," interrupted the weathered man. "She's here with me, and unfortunately, this isn't a social call. We've come looking for a friend of mine."

"I believe I directed my question to Goldenrod's Gym Leader. Not to you, whoever you are," Clair snapped coldly. Returning her attention to the rather nervous-looking woman in front of her, she asked, "As you were about to say?"

Brock was taken aback. _Whoa. The temperature's sure to drop wherever she's waltzin'. What happened to her? She was never anything like this before._

Without missing a beat and retaining her cheery manner, Whitney replied, "Oh, we were just here to visit someone who's been out of touch recently. You've heard of him, I'm sure. Ash Ketchum?"

Just the slightest amount of warmth returned to Clair's features. "Oh yes, he's here. I granted his wish to train in…the outlying areas," she said, avoiding any specifics.

"Oh, I see. Might you know exactly where he could be?"

"No."

Brock was beginning to have enough. Trusting his gut, he felt time was growing short. "We know he's been training in the Holy Land," he said, interrupting yet again. "We need to get in there and find him. I have reason to believe he may be in danger."

"Access to that area is restricted," said Claire, not even bothering to deny its existence. "Only those who have obtained the Blackthorn Badge from me may enter. No exceptions." And with that clipped response, the conversation was over. "Now, if the three of us have no further business?"

Brock suddenly stepped forward. Coming head to head with the residential Gym Leader, his visage darkened considerably; his stiff demeanor sending chills through everyone in the room, even Whitney.

"Then I challenge you, Claire of the Blackthorn Gym, to an official match," he growled. "Time?" he added simply, knowing she would catch on.

"Anytime until the sun sets," she smirked confidently, though she didn't quite feel it.

The Breeder abruptly about-faced and began to march from the office. Pausing briefly in the doorway, he turned his head back to those still standing silent. "I'll be back in a few minutes. A have a quick call to make." With that, he left.

"Excuse me," Whitney smiled politely, bowing to the others. Then she broke into a run, intent on catching up to the newest challenger.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

"Wait!"

Slowing his pace long enough for Whitney to catch up, Brock then continued back to the Pokémon Center without a word. "Brock, what's going on? I thought you said you'd never battle," she said breathlessly.

"I said I've never liked battling, not that I won't when the time calls for it or if I figure my pokémon would love the exercise," he corrected. "This is one of those times."

"But why the rush? Surely Ash is okay; I mean, he does have some of his strongest team members with him. And besides, if you'd give me the chance I think I could convince Clair to let us in."

Brock shook his head. "The kid's in trouble. He's gotta be. Ash has been out of touch before, but never like this. He's always at least contacted his mother on a regular basis, but he hasn't even done that."

Brock hesitated before continuing. "Besides," he stated quietly, "I don't think Clair will break the rule she's established. Not even for an emergency. You were right, Whitney. She has changed."

"Well, she and Lance did have a, uh, falling out a while back," she said, bringing her fingers together and tapping them nervously. "So that might've had something to do with it."

"The Kanto Champion, eh? Great. So she's cold _and_ bitter." He sighed. That didn't mean Clair would be a pushover, however. The woman trained Dragon-type pokémon for a living, and just that fact made her a dangerous opponent. That, and Brock was out of practice.

Seemingly reading his line of thought, Whitney put a hand on his shoulder. "Just be careful, okay?"

Brock smiled back, with his lips holding a honed edge. "When am I not? Besides, I've travelled with Ash for years. You pick up a few tricks."

With that, Brock went off to make his call.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

The weather around Blackthorn was clear, allowing the Gym's modest stadium to be open to the sky, the retractable roof letting in light ripened by the setting summer sun. These golden rays were supplemented by surrounding spotlights, casting the edges of the square building in shadow.

Amongst the small crowd that had gathered in the bleachers, Whitney had just seated herself in the front row when the two combatants entered from opposite ends of the arena. Positioning themselves amongst the lines inscribed into the floor, Brock and Clair awaited the referee to enter.

Despite his calm demeanor, Brock was a little apprehensive about the whole situation. It wasn't the fact that he was facing the most powerful Leader said to currently reside in Johto. Nor was it the fact that this woman often used Dragon-type pokémon, whose power was considerable and had few weaknesses.

No, it was the fact that if he lost, he'd have to leave his friend to fend for himself, at least until Brock could come up with some other plan.

Closing his eyes all the way, he concentrated momentarily at the task at hand, flushing his mind of doubt. His friends had taught him that: to battle with both a clean heart and mind was to prevail.

Raising his head, he saw Clair had already situated herself and was smiling devilishly. He paid her no mind, and directed his attention to Clair's assistant who was both announcing and judging the match.

"This is an official Gym challenge between Leader Clair of Blackthorn," at this the old man raised one stubby arm holding a red flag, "and Brock of Pewter City." As he said this, he raised the green flag in his other hand. "Each Trainer will use three pokémon. The match will end when all combatants on one side are unable to battle. Only the challenger may switch his pokémon at any time." He then swept both flags into a flourish.

"Begin!" he shouted.

At this, Clair subtly hit a hidden switch near her feet with her toe. With the sound of a lock disengaging and a slight squeal, the floor of the arena parted ways down its center, revealing a pool of water at their feet. Squaring herself to military height, Clair tossed her first pokéball into the sky.

"Kingdra, go!" In a swirl of bright white light, a creature akin to a giant blue seahorse landed in the water, sending small waves in all directions.

"So, you're starting off by playing with a type-mix, are you?" Brock murmured to himself. Kingdra, as a pokémon that shared the traits of both Dragon and Water-types, had only one weakness: Dragon attacks. And Brock didn't have access to any of those. "Well, I can play that game, too."

"Come on out, my friend!" Merely holding his pokéball out in front of him, Brock released his Marshtomp into the water as well.

With orange cheek-gills and fins on both its back and head, Marshtomp were bipedal amphibious creatures of a light blue and grey complexion. Upon being released, Brock's Marshtomp turned and saluted its trainer in good cheer before turning back to the task at hand.

"What in the world is that?" Clair asked of no one in particular. As Marshtomp were not native to Johto, she had no idea what type this pokémon was.

And she didn't receive an answer as Brock called out his first order.

"Marshtomp, start swimming" he called. The mudfish-like pokémon complied, pushing itself off the edge of the pool and heading straight for Clair's Kingdra.

"Dragon Pulse!" The giant sea horse formed a purplish orb of energy in front of its mouth, shooting it at high speed. The ball of destruction skimmed along the water's surface towards its target, sending up steam.

"Jump up and out of the water and start spinning." Brock decided to make an impression right away; he couldn't afford to waste any time. The aquatic creature burst from the surface, using the air currents around its body to cushion itself as it arced right over the Dragon attack. It was a move perfected by Ash Ketchum himself.

By the time Marshtomp had landed and dove back underwater, Brock felt it was close enough. "Now use Ice Punch on the water." As the pool's clarity began to recede around her pokémon, Clair began to figure out what Brock was up to.

"Kindra, get out of there!" she shouted. But she was already too late, as her pokémon was frozen in place from its belly down.

Knowing he only had one chance at this as Clair would likely recover quickly, Brock ordered his partner to continue its Ice Punch maneuver right back to his side of the pool.

Breaking from the surface as a swirling pillar of water and ice, Marshtomp propelled itself high into the air. As the crowd gasped at the rather beautiful sight, Brock cut his right hand in a downward motion. "Now use Earthquake, right on the pillar!"

Rotating itself in midair to gain some momentum, the fish-like pokémon manipulated the laws of nature to greatly increase its body mass as it struck the tower's surface. The structure collapsed upon itself, sending shockwaves down and out into the pool. It was enough to disperse Clair's incoming Hyper Beam, as well as do what Brock had intended: to use the pool as one big weapon.

Clair's Kingdra was freed from its prison and thrown high by the resultant waves. This didn't protect it, however, from the chunks of ice that pelted it mercilessly on the way up, nor the hard landing upon the frozen surface below. Sliding on its side for a few feet, the Kindra was easily declared as knocked out of the battle. Marshtomp landed lightly at Brock's side.

"The first round goes to Brock from Pewter City!" shouted the official, holding up the green flag.

Clair silently withdrew her partner, sneering at Brock. "A lucky first shot! But you won't be so lucky with this one. Go, Gyarados!"

Slithering upon the slushy mix of the battlefield appeared a creature of grand proportions. With a gaping mouth and twitching barbells on its chin, the giant sea serpent slowly raised itself to a height of at least twenty feet and began to hiss at its opponent. Though looking like a dragon from ancient mythology, it was in fact a Water-type and an extremely aggressive one at that.

Brock considered the situation for a moment, and then silently withdrew his Marshtomp, replacing it with his next choice. Out came what at first appeared to be a spherical rock, which then opened up to reveal a pair of eyes along with a series of spikes that extended along its equator.

"Let's show them what you can do, Forretress," Brock called out.

"Don't let them form another strategy! Burn the field and aim directly at that rock!"

Rearing itself up further, the Gyarados roared out a stream of pure heat and flame directly toward Brock's Forretress.

Though it didn't look like one, Forretress were really Bug-type pokémon and thus weak to fire. _Good move_, Brock thought to himself. _Effective and the heat will take away my field advantage. But it's going to take awhile to melt all this_.

Reacting quickly himself, Brock ordered his friend to perform a Rapid Spin directly into the ice field. Turning itself onto its side, Forretress dug itself into the surface and spun in place, sending up a billowing shield of half-frozen water. It connected with the jet of flame, deflecting the blow and buying some time.

"Ha! That maneuver won't do you any good!" Clair shouted. "Flamethrower, full power!" A deep groan could be heard from within the growing cloud of steam, and Brock knew his poor pokémon was getting cooked from the inside.

Looking around desperately for some plan to present itself, the Breeder noticed the painted edges of the pool beginning to pop from the extreme heat of the Flamethrower. Noticing the silver material underneath, Brock recalled something. _That's it!_

"Forretress, if you can still hear me in there, use Magnet Rise!" Noticing that the sides of the pool were made of metal, Brock allowed himself the slightest upcurve of the mouth as his pokémon thrust itself from the covering cloud directly at Gyarados, propelled by magnetic forces. The pure force of the move buckled the edge of the pool nearest Brock.

Splitting the line of flame in two, the little bug flew right at its opponent. But just as Brock was going to order his last attack, disaster struck.

"Gyarados! I know what they're up to, so use your Aqua Tail to bat it away!" With a cyclone of elemental energy wrapping itself around its rearmost fin, the sea serpent coiled itself around and hit Forretress dead center, sending its opponent spinning back and up towards the open ceiling.

"Forretress, no!" Brock yelled out. But it was already over. Having received its master's command, Forretress had already stored up its energy to critical mass. Turning white, the creature imploded its reserves, sending out illumination across the arena. Everyone had to shield their eyes, the resulting light and smoke buffeting all present.

Rubbing grit from her eyes, her body-length cape still billowing behind her, Clair turned her head and looked for the judge's final word.

"After a failed attempt at using Explosion to knock out both sides, Brock's strategy has backfired. This round goes to Clair and her Gyarados!" said the little man, who had finally recovered himself from the blast. Raising his red flag high, the crowd cheered.

Whitney shook her head. The battle had been going in Brock's favor, but he had been reckless in his choice of pokémon, and it had cost him. Now the tables were turning back in Clair's favor, her dragon pokémon virtually uninjured.

The former Gym leader was expressionless as he withdrew his friend, speaking to the collapsed ball before putting it away. "Thank you. You did what I wanted you to do. Take a good rest. Now, let's see if we can finish this, Marshtomp!"

Materializing once again, Brock's prime battler stood at the ready.

Clair grinned, her expression maddening. "Oh, you've been very creative, Brock. I'm actually impressed. But no man will beat me, never again. Let's be a little creative ourselves, Gyarados!" Tracing her finger through the air in a zig-zag pattern, she silently commanded her next move. Glancing at its Trainer, the dragon then closed its eyes and just sat there, its barbells raised skyward.

As if a switch had been flipped, a sudden chill could be felt in the air and Brock's ears popped. Up above, the sky turned black as storm clouds formed, swirling over their heads.

Whitney's ears popped as well, the barometric pressure dropping rapidly. "What's Clair up to?" she said, talking to herself. "She's either using Rain Dance, or…oh, no," she breathed.

Looking over at Brock, who was presently having Marshtomp use its Mud Shot attack at a distance in a bid to distract the monster from what it was doing, she shouted out to him, "Brock! Get your pokémon out of there! She's trying to use – "

"Thunder!" Clair laughed out, cutting off Whitney's warning. From the heavens above, a literal torrent of lightning bolts rained down, directed toward the little amphibian.

"Use Protect!" Brock screamed. Abandoning its previous series of attacks, the mudfish quickly crossed its arms in front of itself, its eyes glowing white. Instantaneously, an aurora shield dispersed itself around its form, protecting Marshtomp from the ensuing attack.

Brock's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected an Electric attack from a Water-type pokémon such as Gyarados. The two elements were incompatible. _I remember Misty telling me it can be done, but that it's a painstaking process. Consider me impressed, too, Clair_.

The devastating Thunder continued, washing the field in a blue-white glow. Rivulets of energy arced everywhere, sending what remained of the pool's water into a frenzy.

Through the haze, Brock could barely make out his Marshtomp at the center of it all, merely a white sphere undulating from the pure power.

Though Protect shielded a pokémon from taking damage from virtually any attack, Brock knew that sustained usage would yield shield failure. He just hoped his friend could hold on long enough.

Even as he thought this, the sphere of light began to vibrate more rapidly. Brock began to sweat. And then, it was over.

Finally cleansed of all impurities, the pool stood empty, having all of its liquid evaporated. Brock visibly relaxed.

"Marshtomp, let the shield fall and aim a Watergun right for Gyarados! Quickly!" he cried.

"What?" was the only reply from the other end. As the little blue pokemon took the brunt of the attack, the crowd gasped. Was the challenger crazy?

"Marshtomp isn't just a Water pokémon," Brock announced calmly to all present. "It's also a Ground-type. Electricity will have no effect on him, at least as long as he's not surrounded by water. That's thanks to you, Clair."

Taking the path of least resistance, the series of thunderbolts followed Marshtomp's attack right back towards their creator. Unlike its opponent, Gyarados was completely vulnerable.

Clair could do nothing but stare as her oldest friend fell before her, instantaneously knocked out. Gripping its ball furiously, she managed to maintain her icy outward shell as she sent out her final competitor.

With a musical bugle of joy, an orange-and-cream colored dragon presented itself on the pool's edge. With a two-legged stance and short tail, the creature had stubby, almost vestigial wings and a pair of twirling antennae on its head. The end result was a creature that was quite beautiful and carried a mystical and innocent charm.

But Brock knew better. He had seen Dragonite in action before, and he knew that they were amongst the fastest pokémon alive. With Marshtomp obviously exhausted, he would have to do something he'd hoped he wouldn't have to.

He would have to take a serious gamble.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

As she had watched the battle progress, the Goldenrod Gym Leader could do nothing but shake her head in amazement. She was soaked to the bone from the thunderstorm overhead, but she didn't care. The match had been phenomenal so far.

But what that crazy Breeder had done this time was inexcusable, and Whitney let him know it.

"What do you think you're doing?" she shouted out, even making herself heard over the roar of the crowd, which had grown as word spread across town of the heated match. "You're using _him_?"

The 'him' she referred to was none other than a rough-looking Absol, its eyes glowering at its opponent. The doors to the pool had just been closed, and so the two creatures were having their faceoff on level ground.

Brock, for his part, was also rather nervous with his decision. It was never wise to use a recently acquired pokémon in such a high-level match. But even more than that, this one had been captured without its consent.

So it wasn't much of a surprise when the Absol slowly turned around and set its glare upon its Trainer.

"I know you don't want to battle for me," Brock replied calmly. "I can tell. But I also know that you are a gentle soul. You were the one that helped me and my friends escape from that Steelix, weren't you?" At this, the creature slowly nodded its head, and the Breeder couldn't help but notice that the blade on its side glistened wickedly in the overhead lights.

Setting aside his fear, Brock crouched down so he was at eye level with the silent animal. Ignoring the impatient glare Clair was giving him, he continued. "And so all that I ask is that you do what you did back then. What you did to protect us."

Getting back up, he watched as his newfound friend turned back around. Looking over at the referee, he nodded.

Wasting no time, Blackthorn's Gym Leader shouted out, "Use Thunder Wave!" As if it had read its master's mind, the Dragonite launched an electromagnetic pulse that spread in all directions from its antennae. Paralyzed, the Absol cringed as all the muscles in its body were wracked with pain and began to spasm uncontrollably. Through sheer force of will, it remained upright.

_This is bad_, Brock thought as the dragon took to the air, zooming up through the roof. It soon came down, and Brock noticed its right fist was arcing with fresh electricity. With a Thunder Punch boosted by the storm still roiling above, the Dragonite hit its unmoving opponent with exceptional force.

Knocked back from the contact, the Absol finally collapsed, landing near the Breeder's feet.

"And with a brilliant move from above, our Leader has scored a direct hit on Brock's Dark-type!" shouted the referee. The crowd had by this point turned silent, wondering what was to happen next.

Struggling with all its might to rise, its fur bristling, the Absol managed to right itself on shaky legs. Brock felt a twinge of compassion, but knew what he had to do next.

"You can do it!" he shouted, mimicking word for word what he'd heard his friend Ash say to his pokémon in many situations such as this. "I know you can! You're more than strong enough. Fight through the pain!"

At this, the white-and-black creature that had spelled death in so many myths and legends opened its eyes and looked skyward, the Dragonite above coming in for another round.

"Now use Perish Song!"

At this, the air stilled, growing ever colder by the second. It stopped raining. Even the sound of thunder was muted as the Absol's fur somehow still rustled in the eerie silence, its eyes flashing.

Then, with a beginning growl, the pokémon of disaster unleashed a howl unlike any other.

"Cover your ears!" Brock shouted over at Whitney, taking his own advice a moment later. The cry wrenched the soul and sent a flower of pain blooming through his skull. As he'd guessed, the pain felt the same as it had back at the cave. The Absol must have used the same move on the Steelix to drive it off. But this time, Brock was prepared for it.

The same could not be said of anyone else, however. As he looked on, Brock could see the Blackthorn Gym Leader on her knees, clutching her head. Her Dragonite was by her side, miming the same pose. Brock grinned in victory.

Perish Song was a move that worked on an emotional level, filling all who heard it with such pain and despair that they simply no longer had the will to battle. It was a move that could end virtually any match without fail. And it worked here, too.

"What…what's happening? I feel so weak…" Clair collapsed, tears in rivulets from her cheeks. Her dragon held on to consciousness only moments more before surrendering as well.

Withdrawing his Absol, the pokémon having suffered the same effects as its foe, the challenger from Pewter City rushed over to the referee and helped the man rise.

"You have won the match," the official whispered. "Your Marshtomp is still kicking. Heh." He handed Brock his badge. "Take this, and go with pride. Find your friend."

Brock gently laid the referee back down, allowing the old man to fall back to his dreams. Surveying the damage he had helped cause, he then remembered that he had a certain Gym Leader to attend to.

Picking Whitney up bridal style, Brock left the Gym at a jog, his way clear.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

A foul smell assaulting her nostrils, Whitney kicked and squirmed upright to a sitting position on the bed. Somehow, she'd ended up back in her room at the Pokémon Center.

Looking over, she noticed Brock putting a stopper over a small vial. "Good evening," he said with a grin. "Nice to see you're awake." Putting the smelling salts away, Brock hoisted his pack onto his shoulders. "If you're feeling up to it, meet me out by the docks." Then he left her room, closing the door silently behind him.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

By the time she had caught up to him, Whitney noticed that Brock was already deep in preparations for his voyage down river. Cutting through the mountains, the surprisingly calm body of water was the only way to reach the Dragon Holy Land, unless one was travelling by air. And apparently, there was no time to waste.

Entering the soft yellow glow of the lantern at the end of the pier, Whitney sat herself down at its edge. The night sky was a beautiful pitch, with a liberal spread of stars overhead. The air was perfectly clear and warm.

"So, I guess this is it. I'll see you again someday, maybe?" she said, kicking her legs absently below her.

Brock paused, looking up from his work at affixing a spotlight to the motorboat's windshield. "You're not coming with me?" he asked, noticing the emotion in her voice.

"Well, no, how could I?" she asked hurriedly. "I don't have a badge like you do. Besides, I'd just be in the way…" She turned her head, making a move to get up.

"You've never been in the way," Brock said quietly, stalling her movement. "Besides," he continued as he began untying the boat, "I don't care about the Badge."

At her questioning look, he sighed. "Look, there's the letter of the law, and the spirit of the law," he said, casting a hard glance back in the direction of the Gym. "And that spirit has already been broken. Clair recognized me back at the office, but she decided not to help anyway."

"So please," and at this he held out his hand to her from the boat. "I need all the help I can get."

Positively beaming, Whitney made her decision. "Okay!" she agreed. Ignoring Brock's hand, she leapt gracefully into the boat.

Stumbling into the rearmost seat from the violent rocking, Brock's hands found purchase on the sides of the hull as the loony young woman in front of him started the engine and jammed the throttle to full.

"Whitney!" he cried, his voice echoing from the surrounding wood as the pair sailed off into the night.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

With Whitney at the helm, it didn't take them long to find the secret entrance, nor even to navigate the twisted waterways of the Dragon's Den. Brock supposed she'd had a lot of practice, considering how Goldenrod was situated along the coast.

Using Brock's impeccable memory for directions as an aid, they made their way through the darkness to a small waterfall, the smell of mildew almost overpowering.

"The entrance to the Holy Land is just below us," he said. "We'll have to depart here." Tying their ride safely to an outcropping of rock at the water's edge, the two Trainers continued through the cavern, using a steeply cut path that wound around the roaring water. With a borrowed lantern in hand, Whitney led Brock steadily downward, her athletic skill coming in handy to keep them from slipping.

With a steady rise in the land that Brock figured was unnatural, the river was soon calm enough that they were able to wade to the exit. Moonlight poured through the portal, and when they reached the end they both gasped in wonder.

Brock had forgotten how beautiful the place was. Continuing before their feet, the river descended in a second waterfall to some considerable distance below, eventually landing upon a field of flowers. All shown silver in the moonlight, with heavy pollen from the fields rising in the air to mingle with the stars.

"Everything blooms here all year round," Brock stated in wonder. "The powers of the dragons that reside here keep it that way. It is their wish."

"It's so peaceful," Whitney said. Just then, a sound thundered in the distance to the northwest, creating a dim green glow on the horizon.

Brock's brows furrowed. "That wasn't a natural occurrence; it looked like an attack of some sort."

"Are you sure?"

"This land is meant as a sanctuary for pokémon of all kinds. All creatures here keep a vow to not fight amongst themselves. Or so the legends say." As he said this, Brock drew a pokéball from his side. Tossing it briefly in the air, what came out made Whitney want to turn around and run back the way she'd come.

It was another Steelix, only this one merely grabbed the sheer rock wall beside them and presented its chin so Brock could give it a good scratch. "Don't worry," he told her. "He's an old friend, and was the first pokémon I'd ever had, well before he evolved into what you see now."

Taking Whitney's hand, Brock placed it gently against the Steelix's hide. The creature chuffed in delight at the Gym Leader's touch. The skin was rough, but still warm.

With a silent gesture from its Trainer, the mountain of metal craned its neck around, presenting its head as a stepping stone from the entrance. "Hop on," Brock said gently.

Seating themselves securely amongst the first crevice of the creature's body, Whitney braced herself for impact as the giant snake threw itself from the stone face. She needn't have worried, for the Steelix soon coiled itself around to land gracefully next to the crystal waters.

Resting his legs at a specific angle, Brock called his mount to a stop and had it lower them near the ground. "Before we head out, I have a promise to keep," he said, pulling out another ball. Twisting the single button on its front, he pointed the device at the ground. "Come on out, Absol!" This time a blue line of light shot out, coalescing into the friend that had helped bring them here.

"You are free to go now, as I promised." Turning away quickly so as not to show the emotion held through the hard lines of his face, Brock reared Steelix up and over the river, churning up the sandy soil as they went.

Through the shimmering silver veil left in their wake, the Absol's white form slowly dissipated, ceasing entirely moments later. It would follow its own path now, Brock knew.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

They saw more lights in the distance as they continued, their hues varying from bright red to that same sickly shade of green. Soon, they began to feel them as well, even over the thunderous movements of Brock's Steelix. They met no pokémon on their journey, not even any water faring types as they followed the river to the source of the commotion, Brock's stomach tightening all the while.

As the group turned onto a tributary that led off at a sharp angle back east, they didn't have to wait long for the Breeder's worst fears to come true. Entering another clearing, the thick trees along the banks sweeping away to give them a clear view, they stepped into a war zone.

Boiling craters dotted the earth, having set the far eastern stretch of wood on fire. And there, lying in the middle of it all on a patch of blackened earth, was a Charizard.

Swallowing audibly, Brock gestured to his ride to bring them around to the downed lizard's side. Before Steelix could even lower them closer, Whitney jumped off first, tears evident in her eyes. Brock followed moments later, already swinging his pack around and opening it.

The monster was alive, if barely. Deep burns and gouges covered its scaly hide, and Whitney felt helpless as Brock did what he could. She wished dearly that her Miltank was still alive; its Heal Bell would have been able to knit the flesh back together instantly, but…

Noticing movement out of the corner of her eye as she was gently caressing the poor creature's head, Whitney got Brock's attention. "Look! Underneath him!"

Coming around from where he'd been attending to one of Charizard's broken wings, Brock made his way back to the creature's belly. There, cradled protectively and rendered almost invisible in the pitch shadows and pale light, was Ash and his Pikachu.

"Thank Arceus," Brock breathed as the two rescuers brought Ash and his closest companion out from under the fire dragon's great bulk. "They're alive, too," he said, examining them immediately.

If anything, they were in even worse shape than Charizard. Pikachu was positively black, his yellow fur nearly burned right off. Ash had a deep and nasty gash on his right side, which had thankfully been cauterized, as well as a broken leg. He had some small burns on his open face and arms as well.

Brock was thoroughly surprised, therefore, when the young man's eyelids fluttered open. He brought up his left arm to grasp Brock's shoulder.

"Hey, buddy," he said, his voice strained. He was obviously in incredible pain. "You missed the party."

Grasping his friend's hand in his own, Brock found himself chuckling despite the situation.

"Hey to you, too," he replied. Forcing down the dozens of questions shooting through his mind, he went for a different tactic. "You better hold on, man, and live. 'Cause if you don't you know Misty's gonna have me stuffed and mounted above her pool."

Ash laughed, which came out as no more than a gurgle as he spat a glob of blood off to the side. "So what the hell happened here?" he asked, coming back on track. "We've all been out of the loop."

When he had finally turned his head back, Brock could see a mixture of sorrow and seriousness on Ash's face.

"Parents," he stated vaguely. Reaching slowly down to his belt, Ash drew out a Fast Ball. Unlike a standard ball, these were created specifically to capture rare pokémon. "I managed to capture a Dratini. As you can see, its parents weren't too pleased with my actions."

As realization dawned on him, the Breeder forced down a sharp reply. He would deal with his friend's foolishness later. For the moment, the important thing was to get everyone out of here. They were all in grave danger now.

Scanning the surrounding field as it continued to blaze, Brock noticed a breeze beginning to pick up. But as the wind began to accelerate, both he and Whitney noticed that it was coming simultaneously from two separate directions, along with a series of roiling clouds from the east and south.

Ash's grip on his shoulder tightened. "You have to leave, Brock. Now. They're Dragonair; you're no match for them." Dragonair, though the de-evolved form of Dragonite, were still incredibly dangerous pokémon, and had one thing that their final form did not: bar the gods themselves, they were the most adept at controlling the weather.

And these two were using that power now, creating a storm of stupendous proportions high above. Through the sudden downpour, Whitney could make out two long, serpentine forms weaving amongst each other, the silvery wings cresting their heads reflecting the lighting swirling through the air. Already beginning to strike more trees below, the bolts set the rest of the surrounding forest ablaze.

"Whitney!" Brock yelled, grabbing her attention. "Help me get Ash and Pikachu to safety!" Having dug through Ketchum's supplies, Brock had managed to retrieve Charizard and put him into stasis. With the now-barely conscious Ash still lying on the ground, she ran over to help carry him to Steelix.

However, she'd only moved a step when she felt a prickling sensation on her turned back. Diving away instinctively, she managed to tuck and roll before the first Hyper Beam hit, the attack a pure golden column of force that blew another chunk from the terrain.

Brock had managed to dodge the second attack, this one a DragonBreath that traced a furrow in the earth and sent up a column of sallow green flame in its wake.

The attack continued, sending up a wall of heat that encircled the group. They were trapped.

Drawing closer, the two Dragonair lined themselves up for another round, their jaws steaming. As the next set of DragonBreath attacks came closer, Brock, Ash, and Whitney all closed their eyes for the inevitable.

It never came. Instead, they found themselves surrounded by a fortress of metal. Brock's Steelix roared in irritation as it took the brunt of the attacks, its eyes smoldering up at those that wished to hurt its friends and master.

Regaining her wits about her, Whitney slowly drew a pokéball from her back as Brock called his Steelix to send out its own DragonBreath in retaliation. She was angry. Far more angry than she'd ever felt in her life; even more than when she'd lost her dearest friend. It was almost overwhelming, this rather new emotion. Almost.

"Clefairy, use Ice Beam!" Another pink pokémon flew from its confines, this one star-shaped with a curl of fur on its forehead. The creature wasn't smiling, though. It had sensed its Trainer's mood and launched a dazzling blue beam of cold without question, directly up at one of the dragons hovering above.

The beam only managed a glancing hit on the one to the left, but that was enough to distract it from launching an attack of its own. To the right, the other parent launched another Hyper Beam, this one contacting directly with the incoming DragonBreath.

The resulting explosion seemed to rend the world asunder, clawing at the eardrums as it sent sparks flying off everywhere.

Shaking off the ringing in his ears, Ash noticed the young woman who was now standing beside him and Brock, directing her pixie pokémon to launch a Psychic blast this time.

With a quirk of an eyebrow, he quipped, "Hey, Brock. You got yourself a girlfriend? We must be dead from that attack and I'm just dreaming."

"Ha. Ha. Just don't think about it too much; we all know such exercise for your brain will just injure you more. Steelix, Iron Tail!" They all ducked as the Steel-type's tail glowed white and whipped over their heads, knocking one of the incoming Dragonair to the ground.

The other dragon was undeterred, however. Seeing its mate thrown away, it sent out a fluting below of rage. Shrugging off Clefairy's Psychic pulse, it flew ever closer, bending around Steelix to strike from behind. Steelix would never be able to shift its weight in time.

But then, it didn't have to. As another golden stream of energy spun itself into existence within the dragon's mouth, it was cut off as a white blur rose from the riverbank nearby and tackled it midair.

With its teeth sawing into the Dragonair's neck and its claws straddling the sinewy form, the Absol held on for dear life. Shifting its weight, using the momentum of its jump, the pokémon of disaster managed to drive the creature to the ground, the two struggling for supremacy.

Using the distraction to their advantage, Brock and Whitney tried to come up with a plan.

"How are we going to get out of here, Brock? You don't have any other pokémon that could battle those…things while Steelix carries Ash and Pikachu out of here, do you?" 

The Breeder shook his head sadly. "No. Marshtomp wouldn't last a second, and Steelix is exhausted already. He can't carry us anymore."

"Then you guys should make a run for it," Ash interjected. "None of my pokémon could beat them either. They've been in an attack rage for days, Brock. Just take Pikachu and the pokéball with you." As he placed the ball in Brock's hand, Ash collapsed. Whether it was from the pain, or worse, nobody could tell.

Brock swallowed. He knew what happened when a dragon went into an attack rage. They became nearly unstoppable, and these two were obviously at a very high level of martial prowess.

"No, there's got to be some way," he whispered to himself. But it all seemed so hopeless. He didn't know what to do anymore. He lent over his prone friend, and began to cry.

Just as his self-pity was taking hold, he felt a warm hand rest on his shoulder.

Glancing up, he saw Whitney kneeling over him, an excited look on her face. "I've got an idea." She looked over at her pokémon. "Clefairy, use Metronome!"

The pokémon Breeder's gaze filled with hope. He shouted over at the pixie. "You can do it, Clefairy! Come on!"

Metronome was a rather unique move. It allowed a pokémon to use virtually any attack. And that included such things as the ability to simply fly them all out of here at high speed.

The only problem was that whatever was generated was completely random.

As the little pink puff started swinging its hands back and forth, the tips of its fingers glowing blue, the battle between Dragonair and Absol had been decided.

Having managed to curl itself around the Dark-type, the blue snake had begun to cut off its opponent's air supply. Surrendering, the brave pokémon managed to twitch its neck in one final effort, sending its blade scoring deep into blue flesh and scales.

Shuddering in agony, the dragon reared up and over its prey, preparing to strike.

At that moment, Clefairy had finished. With a rush of wind, a psychic wall formed itself around Brock and his companions. That included Absol. Bouncing rather comically off of the Reflect that had been put up, the enraged pokémon ascended skyward one again.

Brock saw his chance. Knowing the affects of Reflect wouldn't protect the pokémon from any energy-based attacks, he withdrew a now-familiar pokéball from his supplies as Clefairy tried again. "Absol!"

The tired animal snapped its head around from where it lay. Noticing what Brock was holding, it glanced back and forth for a moment from the device back to Brock's face.

It made its decision. Attempting to stand up, the pokémon collapsed again. Noticing its plight, Steelix uncurled itself from its protective embrace, trusting the Reflect to do its job. Wrapping its tail around the fallen, the iron behemoth actually managed to pull its catch back in time, before another DragonBreath hit just where Absol had lain.

Quickly capturing his friend once again, Brock smiled up at his first pokémon. "Thank you," he said. Steelix simply nodded.

Clefairy was on its third attempt. The poor thing was beginning to sweat as it struggled to build up another bout of energy. Fortunately, the other Dragonair had only been trying to bash its way into the shield all this time, but even that amount of luck wasn't going to hold out.

Brock and Whitney could see holes beginning to form in the crystalline barrier around them, and these spiderwebbed into cracks as the inherent psychic structure failed. And then the end began.

Entwining themselves together by their tails, the two monsters flew in harmony high up into the air. Their movements graceful, it was a sight to behold and would have been beautiful if not for the danger attached to it.

"They're doing a Dragon Dance, aren't they?" Whitney asked, her mouth turning ashen.

"Yes. They're boosting each others' power. Then they're going to ram right through our defenses as if it were tinfoil."

It was pointless to resist now. The dragons were fast before; now they would be able to move too fast for any of their own pokémon to even land a hit. Brock withdrew Steelix as well, not bothering to recall Pikachu back into its own ball. The belligerent little guy would want to go out with the rest of them.

Using one of the strongest attacks in existence, the Dragonair spun as one toward the beleaguered people and pokémon below. Their still-spinning forms lighting with fire from all colors of the rainbow, they descended in a brilliant Outrage.

With a bright white aura resonating from beside him, Brock grasped Whitney's hand.

Then the earth gushed in flame and smoke as the dragons hit.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

They all landed in a heap on some sort of hard surface.

Rubbing her buttocks, Whitney wondered if this was what the afterlife was like: being dumped in the middle of some black and white landscape with bustling people all around.

_Wait. Bustling people?_ Her vision adjusting to the harsh light from above, she realized she was sitting on a sidewalk. With people walking past, giving them strange looks and a wide berth, it took her a moment longer to place exactly where they were.

"I know this street. We're back in Goldenrod!" she shouted, her usual good cheer coming back with all the force of a Snorlax. Getting up and turning herself around, she also recognized the building that Clefairy had managed to land them in front of.

Looking down in wonder at the little pink form, she bent down to hug it. "You managed to use Teleport, Clefairy! Thank you so much!"

"Clefairy!" it crooned back, happy that it had done what its Trainer had asked.

"Brock? Brock! Get up, lazy bum!" Reaching down, Whitney pulled the former Gym Leader to his feet. He was clutching his head. "We made it, right to Goldenrod's General Hospital."

"Wha…? Oh!" Forgetting the splitting headache he'd developed from his lovely kiss with the concrete, Brock picked up Pikachu and helped Whitney gather their friend between their arms.

Dragging the lad to the hospital's front entrance, with Clefairy kindly opening the door for them, they started shouting at all they met, "Medic! We need help over here!"

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Holding an ice pack over his head, Brock waited nervously for the results. Whitney had fallen asleep on his shoulder hours ago, but the door to the operating room still hadn't opened. It was now four a.m., he was really tired and grumpy, but damn it all he was going to be there for his friend.

Holding the Fast Ball in his hand, he looked down at it for what had to be the thousandth time that evening. He wanted to see what exactly lay inside, but something told him to wait. He figured the story behind its capture would be interesting, and felt that all the surprises sure to follow would come soon enough.

He had only needed to wait a few minutes more to get his answer, too. The light above the double doors flickered out, and a young man in scrubs entered the hallway.

Taking off his mask and looking down kindly, he said, "The operation was a complete success. I'm happy to say that the skin grafts are holding, and your friend is stable."

Brock smiled tiredly. "Thank you," he murmured. Grasping the man's hand briefly, the surgeon then nodded and left.

Gently shaking Whitney awake, the two made their way stiffly over to the gurney as it was led out next. Following the aides down a multitude of hallways, the group finally settled in a room marked "328B" on its door.

Reaching over, Brock silently readjusted the blankets over Ash Ketchum's sleeping form. He wouldn't have long to wait.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Waking up the next morning to bars of sunlight creeping through the blinds, Brock heard a slurping sound from next to him. Panicking, he bolted upright from where he'd been half-lying on Ash's bed. Ignoring his numb rear and aching back, he was both relieved and surprised to see that the sound was none other than Ash gorging himself on hospital food.

"Did you know they give you ice cream here, Brock? It's awesome! The nurse said I could have as much as I want. She even gave me her number for some reason…" He dug right back in as Brock chuckled. The kid was the same as ever: clueless.

"So…you're feeling alright?" He started. Seeing Ash nod absentmindedly as the kid started eyeing the flavored gelatin, Brock decided this was as good a time as ever to push on.

"Okay, then. Well do you mind telling me why in the name of all pokémon you didn't give those dragons back their child?" By this point, Brock was yelling at the top of his lungs and waving his arms. No one inside the hospital on this floor seemed mind; yelling and screaming were apparently a common occurrence.

Ash paused mid-bite, and after a moment had a sour look on his face. Ripping the spoon from his mouth, he let it clatter on the tray. "Because if I had, then they would have killed it."

Looking over at Brock, he gestured to his belt. "You have it on you, right? Then let her out. You'll see what I mean."

Brock complied, still seething. In a white glow, a Dratini developed on the tile floor. Squealing with delight, it started sniffing the air with interest.

That's when Brock's eyes widened. This wasn't just any Dratini. A brilliant fuchsia, its scales and white belly sparkled in the sunlight as it began to slither about the room. Brock decided to get out of his chair to pick it up before it got itself into trouble.

"It's…a shiny pokémon," he said with wonder, sitting back down. As they were often called, 'shiny' pokémon were ones whose coloration differed from the rest of their species. They were exceptionally rare, and made up only about a tenth of a percent of the population. _But a shiny Dratini? I don't think there's ever been one on record._

Ash declined his head sadly. "Yes. As you can see, when I found this little one, I was very excited. I'd been looking to capture one for a long time. I knew that she would like it, even though they aren't exactly water pokémon. They do still live in the water, you know."

Brock smirked. He knew the young woman whom Ash was referring to.

"Anyways," Ash continued, "I became even more excited when I realized it was old enough to have left its parents. Or so I thought."

Brock looked away, his gaze unfocused for a second in thought before returning to his friend. "So even its parents recognized how special it was, too."

"Got it in one. I should have realized they would have thought the same way. To be overprotective of such a special child. But I was so happy to think that I could give Misty such a nice gift when I got back…" He shook his head. "I just didn't think anymore about it, and captured it. Seconds later was when the trouble started. You know how I am, Brock. It took me half a day of running to realize what I'd done, and to figure out how they were tracking me and Pikachu. By our scent."

Ash leaned back in his bed, rubbing his face. "There was nothing I could do. If I'd tried to give their baby back, it would have been covered in my scent from being in one of my pokéballs. In their rage, they would have thought their child was me somehow, and they would have attacked it just the same. I couldn't let that happen."

Rubbing his side, which was now covered in itchy bandages and new skin, he cast his eyes to the ground, gently reaching over to rub the Dratini's head. "I'm sorry to have brought you into this Brock. I guess I worried all you guys by not being able to come, didn't I?"

_Leave it up to Ash to actually have a good excuse for being late to his best friend's party_. Brock sighed. There was little more to be said. "Hey, I got a cool Badge out of the deal, at least."

When his best buddy looked at him inquiringly, the Breeder held up a hand. "For another time. But seriously," and at this he put the Dratini into Ash's arms as he got up to stretch, "stick to the simple gifts from now on. Misty just really wanted you to be there for her."

They looked at each other for a few moments, the kid digesting the news. Ash looked away, nodding solemnly.

Then Brock paused, a cold jet of fear running up his back and down his legs. Well, everywhere really. "Oh, no. Misty! I forgot to call her!" Running over to his tattered bag, he dug out his Pokégear. It must have been turned off from all of the gallivanting he'd done across half of Johto, for there were six messages waiting for him. All from the same number.

He groaned. His headache was coming back.

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Fortunately for him, the ensuing phone call was not as bad as he was expecting. After telling her 'so-called friend' that she had just arrived in Goldenrod looking for him, Brock was allowed a brief respite from the cold words to tell her where he was. Her demeanor changing immediately to one of quiet panic, Brock assured the Gym Leader that Ash was stable and doing well.

He'd neglected giving out any further details, but he really didn't want to be there during the Ash-and-Misty chat that was sure to come.

It was only a half hour later, then, when Misty had finally arrived that Brock decided to depart the room for a breath of fresh air. He had to check up on Pikachu at the Center, anyways, as Ash had been asking for an update about its condition all morning.

Attempting to close the door behind him as gently as possible, he ended up leaving it ajar as he yelped from a sudden hand on his shoulder. _What is it with people lately trying to startle me into a heart attack?_

Turning around, he was relieved to see it was just Whitney. Having scrubbed herself clean, she didn't look quite as much like she had just survived a few near-death experiences recently.

"Hi!" she said, a big smile on her face. She looked radiant, Brock realized.

"Um, hi, yourself. By the way…where have you been?"

"The cafeteria," she replied. "Did you know they have ice cream?" Glancing away for a second, her eyes settled on the open door in front of them. "Oh, they look so cute together."

Following her gaze, Brock peeked back into the room. Misty was currently cradling her Dratini in one arm while holding Ash's hand in the other. There were tears of joy on her face as she and Ash talked in low voices. Brock took that as a very good sign.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. But you've only seen them together for, like, five seconds. Just wait."

Whitney giggled. "Oh, you're just being silly. Anyway, I've just come around to say goodbye."

"Oh." The news, as usual, hit Brock like a bag of bricks. She was leaving.

"I've got to be heading back to the Gym. I'm sure my apprentice has had her hands full these past couple of days, and has probably been tearing her hair out." She said all this while remaining turned away from Brock. Then, having made her decision, she suddenly turned back around and gave him a crushing hug.

Brock was so surprised, it took him a moment to respond. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you for saving me."

"Well, you helped, too, you know," he replied. Feeling her shaking her head against his shoulder, the young woman suddenly pulled back, putting them at arms' length.

"No. It's not just that. It's…I had fun. A lot more fun than I've had in a long time. You really helped me," she said meaningfully. A single tear escaped her lashes, and she wiped it away before her smile returned.

"And I almost forgot," she said, stepping back and placing a piece of paper in his hand. "I'll see you again, ok?" And with that, she ran off down the hall, waving over her shoulder.

Brock knew he'd never be able to catch her.

Looking down at his closed palm, he opened it and unfolded the piece of paper. There was a phone number written on it.

Reaching into his back pocket, he drew out his little blue book, cross-referencing the number on the note with the one he had in his records. _She must have given me her private number_, he concluded. _Does that mean…?_

"Nah. Couldn't be."

But he put the note in his pocket anyway, just in case.

**~Fin~**


End file.
